June 01, 2007

- Steve Toth

O developers of desolation
Before you comes the forest
After you the deserted street
The extremes of intoxication & toxicity
punch out their differences
in the open sewer you call a personality
Where does iron go when it's eaten away by rust?
Maybe that's what happened to your conscience
When I see you pouring I say drink up
Will knocking yourself unconscious
grant you the break you're grasping at
from the ordeal of your own company?

O betrayers of the earth's intentions
Before you comes the clear stream
After you the festering cess pool
Isn't it irritating when everybody
doesn't turn out to be as easy
to manipulate as the greedy beggars
who call themselves your special one?
But paying wages that are cheaper
than slavery & insisting on golden showers
on the first date are two ways
of weeding out the unsuitable

O creators of ruin
Before you comes the wilderness
After you the wasteland
I can't seem to find my name on your list of friends
I take that as a compliment
You say there's nothing you can't afford
I take your best & give you better
You just know I'm a another species
Maybe you're overdue & the baby wants out
Even your body is sick of resembling you
Bumblebees slam glass doors to get to you
Your fear is fully realized

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